


Nightmares and Dreams

by CrashDevil (cjdevlin19)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Grace Kink (Supernatural), Chastity Device, F/M, Reader-Insert, Virgin Reader, werewolf reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-06-02 23:56:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19452145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjdevlin19/pseuds/CrashDevil
Summary: Y/n is a twenty-two year old werewolf with the weight of her pack’s world on her shoulders. Michael needs a few volunteers to perfect his grace/blood cocktail. Y/n’s family seem to be the perfect recruits.~~~~~~~~~~~~Dean had been your nightmare for years, but Michael? Michael was a dream.He had Dean’s face, his eyes, his voice, a similar air of danger, but he had a different sort of… scary charisma.You were shy, not unafraid but not terrified, when he appeared in the two-bedroom shack your family had called home your whole life. You knew immediately that this was not the monster you saw when you were younger, that this entity wearing Dean was infinitely more powerful than anything you’d ever seen… and he was beautiful.“Hmmm. This looks… quaint.”Your father jumped up from his spot at the table, tucking you safely behind his back as the two of you faced the newcomer. “Who are you?”“I’m the salvation you’ve been waiting for.”





	1. Beautiful, Powerful, Terrible

  


**Chapter Warnings:** Enforced chastity (chastity belts), talk of arranged marriage, female masturbation, Smut, **18+ HERE BE SEX, DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!** , grace!kink

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean Winchester was the stuff of nightmares. Since you were a pup, you had heard stories of hunters popping out of the shadows to take heads with their machetes or shoot bullets of pure silver into wolves’ hearts. As you got older, you learned specifically of the Winchesters, the truth behind the legendary hunters: broken, cold, terrifying humans who had convinced themselves they were the good guys as they indiscriminately murdered what they called “monsters”.

You caught a glimpse of them once when you were sixteen, a set of too-tall creatures in cheap suits climbing out of a behemoth of black metal. The fear those two men, human men, put into you was overwhelming… and they weren’t even there to hunt you.

Dean had been your nightmare for years, but Michael? Michael was a dream.

He had Dean’s face, his eyes, his voice, a similar air of danger, but he had a different sort of… scary charisma.

You were shy, not unafraid but not terrified, when he appeared in the two-bedroom shack your family had called home your whole life. You knew immediately that this was not the monster you saw when you were younger, that this _entity_ wearing Dean was infinitely more powerful than anything you’d ever seen… and he was beautiful.

“Hmmm. This looks… quaint.”

Your father jumped up from his spot at the table, tucking you safely behind his back as the two of you faced the newcomer. “Who are you?”

“I’m the salvation you’ve been waiting for.”

“W-what does that-”

His lips twitched into a mockery of a smile as he rounded the table, green eyes searching around the room. He seemed unaffected that his very presence had your father ready to attack, like fear was not something he’d ever known and the Alpha of a werewolf pack wouldn’t be the one to inspire it. “You’ve spent your entire lives struggling, haven’t you? You have an entire pack of seven living in this nine hundred and sixty-eight square foot house. You live in constant fear of hunters, despite the fact that you feed on cattle.” The patronizing tone of his voice said he thought your fear was as ‘quaint’ as your home. “So, tell me.” He focused on your father, eyebrows raising ever so slightly. “What do you want?”

“To be free,” you whispered. Your father didn’t catch it, all his senses too focused on the well-dressed intruder, but that creature wearing the hunter definitely did. Green eyes snapped to yours and for a fraction of a second it felt like he was _inside_ your mind. Disappointingly, the feeling was gone before you had a chance to examine it too closely.

“I want a better life for my family,” your father answered. You’d known that was going to be his answer. Your entire existence was about making life better for the pack. Whoever this man was, he’d been right: your pack had struggled since your grandfather was killed by hunters. The only hope for better was your future marriage into a richer pack. That was the most important thing in the world to you, or it was supposed to be. Because it was most important to the family, you weren’t supposed to feel upset about it. You weren’t allowed to want for more, permitted no wants, no needs, no desires beyond those that benefitted the pack as a unit.

The beautiful, _powerful_ , creature smiled at your father but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “This, I can provide,” he said smoothly. He took a step closer to you and your father and your throat clenched tight against an overwhelming wave of energy, his scent like pure ozone hitting you. How was it possible to _smell_ like power?. Your father’s scent leaked fear as the stranger leaned forward… and your pack Alpha leaned slightly back. “I’m experimenting with alterations on my Father’s designs. When my plans come through, all of your weaknesses will cease to exist. You’ll fear no human. No hunter. You’ll have a better life.” His words felt like they were meant for you but his eyes were still on your father, his entire aura and presence demanding compliance that the wolf was slow to give.

“What’s the catch?” You shook your head at your dad’s incredulous words.

“The catch?” The stranger sighed, giving a roll of his eyes. You could tell he didn’t like being questioned. “After I have made you better monsters, you will help me make a better world.”

“You can do that?” There was hope in your father’s words and you could almost see him shrink, the fight in him diminishing.

“I’m an Archangel. I _will_ do that.”

“But you-”

“Need a few… test subjects,” the Archangel interrupted.

“You want _my_ pack to be your guinea pigs?”

“Not _just_ your pack. You’re going to retrieve your sister’s pack as well, and you’re going to bring them to me.”

Your dad scoffed, still in denial of his own submission. “Why would I do that?”

“Because when I leave here, I’m going to take y/n with me.”

Fear flooded your father’s scent completely, taking over your senses and forcing your heart rate to skyrocket in sympathy as he put his arm behind him and tucked you closer. “No! You can’t have her! She’s my only daughter!”

“Yes, I know. You’ve placed your pack’s entire future on her shoulders. But she’s well into maturity and you haven’t found a wolf of better standing to marry her off to, have you?”

“It’s just a matter of time!” he insisted. “She’s beautiful! She’s _pure_!”

The _Archangel_ appeared next to you and you shrunk away from both him and your father, his sudden shift unnerving you almost as much as your father’s fear. “You’ve gone to extremes in order to ensure her purity, as well.”

“Don’t come into my territory and judge me! I did what I had to do!”

“Of course, what self-respecting monster would buy a wife who’s been allowed access to her own genitalia? Or was it her brothers you were restricting access? Maybe you were removing your own temptation with that steel shield?” The Archangel reached out and wrapped the fingers of his right hand around your father’s throat, tugging him forward and forcing his head back to make him look directly into the powerful creature’s eyes. “Your daughter is coming with me. If you move quickly, gather your family and bring them to me, perhaps she will still be pure when you get her back.”

You gasped at the words, leaning heavily against the closest wall. For more than a decade your family had made your purity, your chastity and virginity, the most important thing in your life. It was supposed to stay that way until a wolf of means took you as his bride… _bought_ you to be their bride. That way, you would help your pack out of their conditions of poverty and go start a new, better off, pack.

Was this beautiful, powerful, entity with the face of your nightmares really threatening to destroy the plans for your future?

You could only pray that was his intention, and for the first time in years you felt hope.

You hated being ‘the plan’. Stuck, locked away from the world, wearing an uncomfortable chastity belt for half of your life? You were dying for a bit of freedom…any sort of freedom.

The Angel removed his hand from your father’s windpipe and straightened his suit jacket, watching coldly as the man who controlled your life coughed desperately. “Don’t take-”

The sound of rustling filled your ears and the world spun.

You were suddenly in a lavish hotel room, bare feet on the softest grey carpet you’d ever felt, your home and father presumably miles away. You swallowed heavily, looking around the suite as he approached a wet bar and poured amber liquor into a crystal glass. “Cognac?”

“I've… never…” You stammered, watching carefully as he poured a second. He turned and offered the crystal to you, two fingers and his thumb holding it like it wasn’t the most expensive drinkware you’d ever laid eyes on. You cradled it in both hands, just in case and whispered, “Thank you, Sir.”

“You may call me ‘Michael’ until such a time as I decide otherwise.” He snapped his fingers and immediately his hat and jacket were hanging on a coat rack by the door. You blinked at him, unsure if he’d just moved incredibly fast or if he could just change reality around him like that. You came to the conclusion that he didn’t need to move fast. He could teleport, so he must have been able to do whatever he wanted. He said he was an Archangel, didn’t he? _The_ Archangel Michael. “Sit.”

You nodded quickly, shuffling over to sit on the edge of the armchair he indicated. You took a sip of the cognac and choked, fighting back a gag as you tried to catch your breath. You covered the fumble quickly, not wanting to anger the man who liberated you, even temporarily, from your family. You hummed in appreciation. “This is very nice. Thank you…Michael.”

“How many years have you worn that?”

You looked down at your lap, not having to imagine the steel and rubber prison hidden under your jeans. “This one is four years old, but I had two others… smaller ones from when I was younger.”

“A decade younger? You’ve been under lock and key since your twelfth birthday?”

You nodded. “A friend of mine kissed me at my birthday party, so Dad… he went to the naughty toy store and got the first one.”

“Would you like it gone?”

“More than anything,” you breathed out.

Michael set his cup on the table in front of him and beckoned you with two fingers of his left hand. You stood and approached him, stopping between his bowed legs. You assumed he could have snapped away your chastity belt like he’d done his hat and jacket, but he seemed to enjoy the way you trembled on your feet before him.

He reached forward and tucked his fingers in the waistband of your pants without asking before he tugged them down to your knees. He ran his fingers across the steel band around your waist until they met the padlock that your father had the only key to. “What will you do when I release you?”

You swallowed, unsure “I haven’t thought about it.”

“Do not lie to me.” He grasped the body of the lock and closed his hand around it, looking up at you through his thick, borrowed, eyelashes.

“I…” You took a deep breath to steel yourself to speak the shameful words of truth. “I would like to… touch… m-my-s-self.”

“Such a simple desire, pleasure.” His hand seemed to vibrate with energy and the padlock melted to a puddle of metal in his palm, then disappeared. Michael made quick work of the rest of the belt and tossed it to the side where it bounced uselessly on the lush carpet. You moved to cover your womanhood from his view, but thick hands slapped yours away. “Do not hide from me. I’ve given you what you wanted: freedom. You said you wanted to touch yourself. Do it.”

“But you're… you’re right th-there.”

His eyes glowed a fierce blue that made you shudder as he grabbed your biceps, forcing you to sit on the table in front of him. Your knees were pulled apart by an unseen force, causing your pants to bunch at your feet. Satisfied, he relaxed back into the expensive sofa. “Do it,” he repeated with unnerving calm.

You licked your lips nervously and tucked your hand between your thighs, for the first time running your fingertips along the sensitive flesh of your mound. Your shaking fingers slid between your lips and you sucked in a sharp breath at the sensation. After so long waiting for this feeling, it was… underwhelming. It felt good, of course, but you had expected… more.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Michael said, a bored but still amused tinge to his words.

“A-am I?”

“My vessel was very good at this. He would spend hours giving women pleasure with this hands and mouth.” His cup was suddenly in his hand again, and he took a drink of cognac, eyes never leaving yours.

“How do I do it?” you asked, voice much squeakier than you intended.

A small smirk twitched at his lips. “Take the rest of your clothes off. Get comfortable,” he instructed. You complied with his direction immediately, and he seemed to enjoy your easy obedience. You were eager to please him. As you were the only young bitch in your pack, they’d been training you to be a good and submissive wife since you were too young to _consider_ rebellion.

Michael was an Archangel, probably as close an entity to God as you would ever encounter… and he had saved you. There was no one in the world more likely to inspire your submission.

You settled back on the table, leaning on one elbow as you looked across the small space between you, waiting for further instruction. A tingling warmth started up at your collarbone and you gasped, looking down to see… nothing.

“You feel that?” he asked and you nodded. “Follow it… with your fingers, follow it.” His words were flippant but his eyes were focused.

The tingle led your hand across your upper body, circling and rubbing at your nipples until they were hard and sensitive, before inviting you to chase it down the soft skin of your abdomen to your pelvis. Before the tingling even reached your pussy, your heartbeat was pulsing in the bundle of nerves that’d been hidden from you your whole life. It teased across your clit and your fingers chased it. The whimper that fell from your lips seemed to echo across the suite. When you dipped your fingers lower to push inside your opening, you cried out and he smiled at the sound.

The tingle pushed further and you tried to follow, but your fingers didn’t fit. “Try opening them a bit. Like… scissors,” Michael offered as the tingling feeling went away, leaving just the pulsing and the slightly uncomfortable stretching feel around your fingers. You pulled your fingers out and experimented a bit with the ‘like scissors’ motion. He regarded you with boredom as you tried to push past your apprehension so that you could get back to that pulsing hot feeling.

You slipped your fingers back into your entrance and pumped a few times, spreading the wetness your body had created around your digits. You spread your fingers again, letting the burn from the stretch pass before you shifted them further apart. You pushed them in harder, letting out a little moan.

“Can you get your fingers _here_?” You shrieked as the tingling warmth of Michael returned, more powerful than before and pressing harshly against a place inside of you that sent sparks of pleasure through your entire lower body.

“ _Oh_! Oh, fuck.” You clamped your free hand over your mouth, falling back flat on the table as you lost the support of your elbow. You weren’t sure how Michael would feel about you cursing, but your father had always been certain that a potty mouth would chase away any man worth having. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled into your palm as you tried to get your fingertips to the spot he wanted.

He clicked his tongue in disappointment and shook his head as you failed. “You don’t have the reach. Imperfect design. I’ll do it. You focus _here_.” The tingle took up over your clit and you whined. You didn’t move immediately, too caught up in the completely unfamiliar feelings of pleasure to process the fact that you were supposed to be doing something. “I said, focus here,” he demanded coldly, and the tingle on your clit turned burning hot.

“I’m sorry!” you shouted, pulling your fingers from your entrance and rubbing them over the nerves. “Oh, my Gah-” The tingle inside of you grew more intense and you felt tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as every muscle in your body started to tighten in anticipation.

“Don’t bring God into this.”

“O-oh-okay,” you stammered, your eyes squeezing shut as your toes curled in the soft carpeting. “I-I don’t I think I’m-”

The harsh pressure inside of you waned and you rubbed harder at your clit to compensate, trying to keep that ‘right on the edge of gratification’ feeling, but it wasn’t enough. “No! _Please_!” you whined in desperation as you tucked your fingers back inside to attempt to touch that spot but failing again.

“Did you need more help?” he asked, innocently. “I showed you where to touch yourself. Did you want something more?”

“I need to finish! Please help me, Michael! _Please_!” you begged, tears of frustration streaming down your cheeks and into your hair. Your eyes popped open as he shifted forward, setting his glass on the table next to your shaking body. “Please,” you whispered.

He smiled a half smile as he placed his left hand on the table and leaned over your body. “You want to cum?” You nodded, frantically. “Say it.”

“I wanna cum. Please. Please, I wanna cum.” You gasped when the reward for your begging was the return of that blissful, warm, tingling, pressure. It wasn’t just teasing at the spot inside you, it was also rubbing your clit and circling your nipples. He stared his dull green eyes into you, piercing into your soul and mind. He watched intently as the pressure built up in your body, muscles going taut in preparation for a release of feel-good chemicals like you’d never experienced. It was almost too much, and you weren’t even _there_ yet.

When it finally hit the world shattered into a million colors and you screamed his name, arching off the table. Your nails scraped against the table’s edge to keep yourself from grabbing him. “Oh, my-” you stopped yourself from panting out the word ‘God’, swallowing and looking up at him with lust-glazed eyes as you came down from the high. “Lord.”

“You can call me that if you want.” He smirked as he stood, leaving you lying dazed and nude on the table as he picked up his glass and walked away for a refill. “You want to stay with me, don’t you, y/n?” You didn’t respond, lazily turning your head and watching him across the room at the bar. “Whatever happens with your pack, with the experiments I’m conducting, they won’t want you back now. That’s at least a part of why you wanted this so badly.”

You looked down. You were trying to feel bad about it but you couldn’t. Your pack just wasn’t as important to you as the beautiful, powerful creature. This Archangel was your pack now. “They aren’t my pack anymore.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. Clean yourself up and get dressed.” You nodded as he walked to a mirror, checking his hair and straightening his tie. “Oh, calm down. I haven’t even touched her yet.”

“Yet?!” a voice similar to Michael’s growled and you straightened in fear, looking for the owner and finding it. “She’s a werewolf! And a virgin! You can’t touch her, Michael!” Michael’s _reflection_ demanded.

“I can do whatever I want to her, Dean. My father’s creatures are exceedingly simple. Give a vampire a bit of blood, throw a wolf a steak, they’ll follow you.” Michael cocked his eyes to you, smiling at your shocked expression. Dean, his vessel, was _talking_ to him?! “Give a virgin an orgasm, you _own_ them.” You blushed, realizing how very right he was in that moment.

“You don’t _own_ shit! Michael, you can’t do this! Take her home!”

“She’s with me. She _is_ home,” he said dismissively, walking away from the mirror. “I told you to get cleaned up and dressed. I will not make a habit of repeating myself, girl.”

“Yes, Michael,” you responded, scrambling to grab your clothes. Your eyes fell on the steel belt and you wondered what should be done with it.

“Where would you like it to go?” he asked, following your gaze. “Bottom of the ocean, volcano, the heart of the sun?”

“You can take it-”

“Anywhere,” he interrupted.

You chewed on your bottom lip for a minute, thinking over the last hour of your life. This beautiful and terrible Archangel had completely destroyed the future you were expected to have, taken you from the oppression you were forced to live under. He saved you, freed you, showed you what physical pleasure felt like and he just said…

A zing of excitement went through you as you replayed his words ‘She is _home_ ’. You smiled brightly up at your new lord and savior. “Take it back to my old pack’s house. Put it on my father’s dinner table… so he understands their plan failed.”

Michael and the belt were gone before you had a chance to finish collecting your clothes.


	2. How Far Will You Go?

**Chapter Warnings:** Female masturbation, oral sex (male rec), Smut, **18+ HERE BE SEX, DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!** , grace!kink, exhibitionism, loss of virginity

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bed in Michael’s hotel suite was the softest thing you’d ever felt. The mattress was perfectly firm with a plush pillowtop and the sheets were two thousand thread count Egyptian Cotton. You almost fell asleep on top of the comforter, but the Archangel told you to get under so you did.

He didn’t sleep. Angels have no need for it. When you woke, he was sitting on the plush sofa, right leg crossed over the left. He seemed to be staring off into space, a million miles away, but something told you he was both a million miles away _and_ right there in the room with you. Completely aware of absolutely everything.

As you sat up, your senses were overwhelmed by the smell of fresh meat. “Breakfast is on the table,” he said, pointing vaguely with his left hand. You didn’t need to be told where it was. The heart on the table was the only thing you could see.

“Is that-” you started, flipping your legs off the bed and stepping toward the table, your mouth watering at the smell.

“Human? Yes,” he answered, not turning to you.

“I’ve never had…” It was taking an absurd amount of willpower to keep yourself from pouncing on the meal. It was the most tantalizing thing you’d ever smelled. Your sharp teeth started to descend and you were certain your eyes were glowing yellow.

“I know you haven’t. Another simple desire you’ve been denied because of the way your father chose to live your life,” he said, standing and turning to look at you. You gasped at the words he used. You had never thought of it in those terms, but he was right. Your father _had_ been living your life for you. “Of course I am. Eat. Your father is on his way to the location I sent him to.”

“Is the pack-”

“Both packs are with him,” he answered shortly. “Eat.”

You didn’t wait to be told a third time, grabbing the muscle from the platter with your clawed fingers and tearing into it with your teeth. It was the most amazing thing you had ever put in your mouth, the copper taste of the blood slicking down your throat as you ripped the meat to shreds in your mouth.

A small smirk graced his lips as he watched the animalistic display. You should have felt ashamed of your poor manners, the noises you were making and the mess of sticky, delicious blood rolling down your claws and arms, but you just couldn’t feel bad about it. Michael _wanted_ you to eat it and enjoy a previously denied ‘simple desire’.

As you swallowed down the last piece of meat and moved to lick your claws, Michael grabbed your wrist. “That’s enough.” There was no room for argument. “You won’t deny what you are anymore but you will not debase yourself, either.”

“Yes, Michael. I’m sorry.”

He dropped your wrist and it limply hung at your side. “Clean yourself up. You have ten minutes.”

“Yes, Michael.” You rushed for the bathroom, bumping the faucet on with your elbow and rinsing the blood off of your skin with freezing cold water. You made sure you were presentable, combing your fingers through your hair and straightening your clothes. You walked out of the bathroom to find him staring at the bathroom door.

“Two minutes to spare. Good girl.”

Your stomach flipped at the praise, the obedient bitch your family created ecstatic for the recognition. “Thank you.”

Michael didn’t respond, grabbing your shoulder and transporting you from the expensive hotel to a dirty, dark abandoned church. Your father’s scent assaulted your nose before you saw him enter the room and you weren’t sure how you ever found that smell comforting.

Your father’s eyes flashed yellow and he growled as he stomped toward you, a sound that would have immediately made you cower if Michael were not beside you. “You! You whore, what did you do?!”

He grabbed your bicep and pulled you toward him but you were unmoved, snarling and planting your feet. Michael clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. “I would not do that.”

“She is _my_ daughter!” your former Alpha growled uselessly at the Archangel before turning back to you. “Did you ruin yourself? Did you fuck him?”

You looked down at his hand on your arm with disdain. “Remove your hand or I’ll do it for you,” you said.

“I don’t think she wants you touching her,” Michael said, his eyes flashing blue. “And neither do I.”

Fear permeated his scent and his fingers twitched against your arm. “I’m her Alpha. I-I d-decide wh-what she-”

You grabbed his fingers and twisted them as you wrenched them off of you. “No, you _are_ not. And no, you _do_ not.” Your eyes went yellow, sharp teeth making themselves known as you growled. You had never growled at your father…but it felt _right_. “Michael decides what I should do. I follow him. He is my new Alpha…and he tends to my needs.”

“You fucked him.” Your father’s accusation made the growl rumble out louder.

Michael rolled his eyes. “I simply released her from her cage. I have not touched her.”

“That belt was to keep her-”

You pushed your father away from you, snarling at him. “We know what the damn belt was for.”

Michael was suddenly beside you, offering you a length of thick chain. “Perhaps it’s time for your pack to know how it feels to be bound.”

You smiled as your former Alpha was forced to his knees by an unseen force you knew was Michael, his hands pulled out in front of him. A zing of petty maliciousness went through you at the idea of revenge, of finally giving your family a taste of their own medicine.

Your cousins, aunt and uncle were chained up facing away from the altar in the center of the chapel, but Michael insisted without saying a word that your brothers, mom, and dad were chained with their eyes trained on the altar. His eyes and posture told you that there was something he wanted them to see.

He beckoned you to his side and you moved gracefully next to him to look across the darkened church to your family. You could feel their judgemental eyes on you and you knew that they were thinking just as your dad did: that the reason your chastity belt was left on their dinner table was because you had lost your virginity.

“I have not touched her. Your daughter is no less a virgin than she was with that belt on.” Michael clasped a large hand over your shoulder and you leaned ever so slightly into his touch. Your father growled, your brothers picking up on it and echoing the rumble. “You don’t honestly think I needed to fuck her to get her to forsake you, do you? She was looking for the exit before I ever appeared to you. She was more than willing to stay by my side once I gave her the freedom you denied her.”

“We _had_ to! She needed to be pure to be worth a damn.” You flinched at your mother’s words, but Michael just sighed.

“Her worth is not determined by you.” He leaned down to look in your mom’s eyes. “It is determined by me. She is mine.”

“No! If she’s still pure then-”

Michael cut your father off by straightening and turning to you. “Get on your knees,” he said, simply. You dropped to the dirty floor with no hesitation. “You taught her well, I’ll give you that much credit.” His hand dropped to the top of your head and dull forest eyes looked down into yours. “We’re going to show your pack how far you’re willing to go for your new Alpha.”

“Yes, Michael,” you agreed immediately. How far you were willing to go for your new Alpha was a question yet to be asked but you were sure that there was nothing you’d deny him. He smiled as he took his jacket off and laid it on the altar. You watched eagerly as his fingers went to work on the buttons of his waistcoat next, folding it neatly on top of the jacket and moving to undo the thin black leather belt holding his slacks up.

You licked your lips as he pulled open his pants, pulling the zipper down deliberately.

“You’re not going to do this, y/n!”

“Get up!”

“You stupid whore, you-”

Your family’s words cut into whimpers as Michael’s eyes glowed brilliantly. Heat rushed between your legs at the sight, the smell of his power, the smell of their fear. You knew they could smell your arousal but it just didn’t seem to matter. You felt the tingle of his power roll across your body and you shivered at the feeling. His slacks and boxers dropped to pool at his feet and your eyes went wide at the sight of his erect penis.

You didn’t have much reference, but it seemed big. Michael’s perfect vessel…of course it was.

He reached forward and grabbed your hair, tugging you closer. “Open.” You followed his direction without thought, your jaw dropping. As he set the head of his cock on your bottom lip, you could hear your pack making noises of discomfort, could smell the bitter of their rage, but you didn’t care. You were focused entirely on Michael. “Tongue.”

You stuck your tongue out as commanded and he started to guide your head back and forth along his hard length, not moving himself more than necessary to manipulate your skull. It didn’t take long for you to start moving independently along his cock, doing just what he wanted without him making it happen. You kept your hands in your lap, not touching him with any part of your body that he hadn’t requested, and as you kept sucking him you let your right hand migrate between your thighs to rub insistently at your clit through your jeans.

“Stand up, take your clothes off and get on the altar,” he demanded, pulling away from you. He snapped and his clothes were all folded neatly on the altar, shoes against the base of the stone.

“No!” you father exclaimed, but you just stood, ignoring him as your shed your clothes. You dropped your shirt to the floor but bent down to pick it up as Michael’s eyes narrowed at you. You folded it and placed it on the altar next to his, doing the same with every piece of clothing before jumping up onto the altar and waiting for further instruction.

“Open your legs. Touch yourself. I want you ready for me as soon as possible…or I’ll hurt you when I take you. You don’t want that, do you?” You shook your head and dipped your hand between your thighs. Following the roadmap that he’d drawn for you the previous night, you played with your clit with one hand and your nipple with the other.

The tingling of his power started up inside of you, putting pressure on that spot, just enough to make you gasp. “Oh, Lord!” You slipped two fingers inside your entrance, twisting them and doing the scissor motion that Michael taught you.

“You’ll want to add another finger, little one,” the Archangel suggested, watching your fingers disappear into your virgin pussy. “Your body will adjust to accommodate, but we want to help it as much as possible, don’t we?”

“Yes, Michael.”

You did as you were told, stretching your internal muscles with a third finger. He watched as you played with yourself, his eyes flicking over your head every few seconds to look at your pack. “This is quite a sight, you know? She’s such an obedient bitch. You never considered that the conditioning you forced upon her might land her in a situation like this.”

The wetness surrounding your fingers started to make a filthy squelching noise as you pumped them in and out of you and Michael gave a slight smirk. “I think you’re ready.” You nodded, excitement mixed with fear flooding you as you let him grab your wrist and pull your hand away. “Relax,” he demanded, pulling you to the edge of the altar and using his power to secure your wrists above your head.

“Yes, my Lord,” you whispered as he wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and ran the head from your clit to your entrance.

“This is an outrage! You get away from-” your father shouted, but the sound of his voice was drowned out by your scream as Michael’s eyes glowed bright and he slammed his hips forward. He forced his cock through all resistance your body put up, easily sheathing completely inside of you.

The pain was intense and your canines and claws descended in response, but Michael just looked down at you with dull green eyes, not moving as your body adjusted to him, and wrapped his right hand around your throat. He put just a little bit of pressure on your windpipe and shook his head once. “I told you to relax, y/n. You’re far less pleasant to look at when you let this side out.”

“I’m sorry. I-” You took a deep breath and willed your wolf away.

“Much better.” He smiled down at you and you could feel his power rolling across your body before settling inside you. You let out a gasp as every semblance of pain disappeared from you. He kept his hand on your throat as he started to move his hips. The movement was measured, his cock dragging slowly in and out of you. Moans forced their way out of you and your eyes rolled back at the feeling of him filling you over and over again. “How does it feel?”

“A-ah-amazing, Michael,” you whimpered.

“Louder,” he commanded. “I want them all to hear.”

“It’s amazing, my Lord! It’s everything I ever thought-” you shouted.

“Who do you belong to?” His voice showed none of the strain yours did. He might have been sitting on that sofa in the hotel room, drinking cognac.

“ _You_! I’m yours, Michael!”

He made a humming noise and added pressure to your throat, cutting off your air supply as he started to thrust harder. Just as your vision started to tunnel out, he released you. The rush of oxygen as you gasped for air made your head swim, and the way his cock was impacting your cervix made you whimper and moan. “Cum, y/n,” he said, but you didn’t see his lips move. You were sure he’d spoken directly to your mind. Maybe you were just so gone with arousal that you didn’t notice.

Whether he spoke the words aloud or not, you followed his directive, anyway. Your body stiffened, your hands pulling against the invisible binds as a wave of pleasure rolled across you and flashes of colored lights infiltrated your vision. You howled with the pleasure, fighting the transition as your overwhelmed body tried to shift back into your monstrous self.

“Good girl,” he praised, thrusting into you a few more times, drawing out your orgasm as long as possible before he thrust in to the hilt. He studied your face as his cock twitched, spilling his seed into you. “Yes. All mine now, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded as he pulled out of you and stepped back. He snapped his fingers and your clothes were suddenly back on your body, as were his. The only evidence anything happened was the smell of sex in the air, the cum dripping out of your still-tingling pussy, and the way your old pack was looking at you when you sat up.

Michael pointed at an apron hanging on what used to be a candle-holder across the room. “Go get that.”

“Yes, Michael.” When you came back in front of him to hand him the apron, he was standing in front of your father, looking down at your pack. There was undeniable disgust on each of their faces.

The Archangel tied the apron to his body and smiled that little smirk at you. “Who do you think should be my first test subject, y/n?”

“Father,” you answered without giving it a second thought.

“Seems I’m not the only one who hates their dad.” He reached down and grabbed your old Alpha by his collar, pulling him effortlessly toward the altar. "Let's begin."


End file.
